Out Of Time
by CherrySin
Summary: Anna Bruckhardt – the ex-partner of Clint Barton and one of Director Fury's most trusted operatives – always knew she'd die young. After all, being an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. these days was a hazardous occupation. However, she never thought it would all end like this. [Bucky x OC]. AU. Pre-Avengers. Time-travel! fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Marvel Universe.**

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**1.**

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A shaky sigh escapes my lips as I grasp the simple ball-point pen in my hand, struggling to find the right words to put on the little scrap of paper in my lap – after all, a person doesn't write a goodbye letter every day, so understandably – this is hard…and knowing the person this is for as well as I do…well, it only serves to make this particular task that much harder.

'**Dear Clint…'**, I start, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth.

'_No. Too formal…' ,_a voice in my mind supplies and I hastily cross the words out, my tired eyes closing on their own accord as soon as that's done and I sigh again, exasperation setting in.

''Why does this have to be so hard?'', I murmur to no one in particular as really, I'm alone in the room…if it could be called that.

'_Come on, Anna. You know him, you two were partners for years before he was assigned a new one…you know him so well he's practically your brother – family, this should be easy.'_

But easy it is not.

It's probably the hardest thing I had ever had to do. I mean, how does one go about telling someone they care for deeply that in a few short hours they'll be no more? That even as I write this I am slowly dying..?

And Clint…an image of him forms behind my still-closed lids and I feel the now familiar burn of tears building at the corners of my eyes. God! I don't want to die. I don't want to leave him all alone because each other is all we have and I most certainly don't want to write this God-damned letter – I don't want to have to say goodbye…

But like I've said already; I'll be gone soon. There's no stopping this, it – faith, destiny…whatever you wanna call it…and Clint needs to know that he's in danger, they all are.

Sighing heavily I force my eyes open and start again: **'Clint…'**

This time the words I've been looking for come to me effortlessly and I write down everything I wanted to tell him on the small piece of paper, adding a joke or a ridiculous absurd quip here and there so as not to make it sound so final, so as not to make it sound like such a totally clichéd goodbye because I can't…I just can't.

None-the-less it is a goodbye – no matter how well I try to mask it – and my hand shakes as I quickly scribble my name at the bottom, fold the note then stuff it somewhat forcefully into a cream-colored envelope, a beautiful golden hawk insignia staring up at me from the top left corner. I want to smile at it; seeing it always brings a smile to my face…not this time. This time – today – I can't. It hurts too much, somewhere deep inside…and my chest is heaving almost painfully I realize as I yet again try my hardest to keep the damned tears at bay.

No dice. If anything, my eyes burn even more fiercely at the thought of having to rein myself in and– _here come the water works!_

I scoff under my breath as the first traitor tear rolls down my cheek; mad at the world, mad at myself and my totally lame self-control. Granted, I'm in a shitload of pain and it's getting harder and harder to breathe with every passing minute it seems, but that's no excuse to be…to be such a – such a…_Oh God! _...I'm such a stereotypical girl!

With a teary groan, I slowly lower myself back down, trying to get comfortable on the hard gurney that's covered with a scratchy, off-white sheet – supposedly hypo-allergenic too – yet that shit makes my ass itch like nothing else…cue a miserable sigh.

Closing my eyes, I turn over onto my left side – away from the observation windows and S.H.I.E.L.D's medical personnel standing on the other side of it…waiting, watching, taking notes – and let the tears come out full force, praying that it would all be over soon.

_Just let it end. So tired, just let it end…_

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**A/N: So here's the first chapter which you could call a prologue-yet-not-a-prologue. It's complicated. Anyway, let me know if you guys liked it and if I should continue.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Marvel Universe.**

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**2.**

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I groan under my breath upon picking up on the sound of quietly shuffling feet somewhere in the room, getting closer to my gurney which is what roused me from the little pity party induced cat-nap. Pure, unadulterated anger surged within me so suddenly, it felt as though fire was running through my veins at that very moment instead of blood and I couldn't help myself; as soon as the intruder stops at the side of my uncomfortable gurney and very gently grasps one of my hands – the one with the IV cannula in it – in its own latex gloved one, my eyes snap open and I growl: ''what the hell do you think you're doing?''

The young blonde girl – as I can now see – S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Medical Field Officers badge hanging around her neck that identifies her as Nurse Maggie Weisz, yelps in surprise.

''Agent B-bruckhardt…'', she finally manages to say, stuttering slightly as she stares down at me, her grey eyes wide behind the clear plastic visor of the snow-white bio-hazard suit she's wearing. ''…I t-thought you were a-asleep.''

Now, usually I'd wait and let the girl gather her courage before answering me but I'm tired, cranky, in pain, I still don't have a clue as to what she's doing here and my patience is wearing thin: ''I believe I've asked you a question, Nurse Weisz'', I grit out, my voice calm yet cold – deadly as I stare at her unblinkingly, ''…what are you doing here?''

The young woman gulps nervously at the calculating look in my eyes. ''I-I…I know that m-my c-clearance level isn't h-high enough…'', the blonde says in a rush, her stutter even more pronounced now, ''…a-and that I-I am n-not supposed to b-be here even if it w-was but…'', here she stops and takes a deep breath, her light grey eyes shimmering with gathering tears.

Guilt floods me and I cringe. _Well, don't I feel like an ass right now… _Sighing, I force myself to dial down on the hostility as I motion with my hand for her to continue.

Taking notice of my dwindling aggression, Maggie shakes off the emotional torrent before she can bust out crying and gives me a forced, timid smile: ''I…well, I-I thought…no, I k-know that you're most likely in a lot of p-pain right now so, I t-thought I'd g-give you an extra shot of m-m-morphine'', she confesses quietly, raising her left hand so I could see the syringe filled with 10 CC's of said liquid gold.

All of my thought processes crash to a stand-still as I lay there on that annoyingly uncomfortable gurney, my mouth opening and closing like that of a fish fresh out of water.

'_You should probably say something you know…'_ a nonchalant sounding voice in my head suggests, _'…don't just sit there looking like a moron.'_

My mouth immediately snaps shut and I quickly raise my eyes off the syringe to meet the young Nurse's gaze. ''I…t-thank you'', I whisper.

'_Heh, look who's stuttering now.' _Internally, I roll my eyes then quietly clear my throat: ''really'', I start again, my voice just above a whisper and completely stutter free this time, ''…thank you.''

''You're welcome'', Nurse Weisz utters softly in response, a bright and genuine smile lighting up her face as she steps closer and again grasps my hand in hers, momentarily fiddling with the IV cannula injection port as she's preparing to relieve me of the excruciating pain so I could rest. However, just as she is about to plunge the needle into the opening of the aforementioned cannula, I remember: **the letter**_._

'_How could you forget, you idiot! This might be your only chance. Quick, stall her. STALL HER!'_

My eyes widen to epic proportions thinking about the letter I wrote for Clint not an hour earlier and I _just know_ this really might be my only chance at making sure he gets it. Before I can think this through, I find myself jerking my hand out of Nurse Weisz's grasp with a rushed ''…wait!''

Startled, the young blonde freezes in her spot, her eyes widening in surprise. ''Agent Bruckhardt?'', she asks, her voice worried yet curious.

Biting down on my bottom lip I slowly sit up and reach for the cream-colored envelope resting on the bedside table to my right.

''Can I ask something of you?'', I inquire cautiously as I look down at the envelope in my hands, my thumb brushing the slightly elevated golden insignia of a hawk on its top left corner.

It's quiet for a while and then… ''I…I guess'', Nurse Weisz answers warily.

I sigh and lift my eyes off the envelope to look at the young woman. ''Could you…could you make sure this reaches my brother?'', I ask.

The blonde stares at me, shock at my request evident on her face. ''Agent Bruckhardt'', she starts, ''…you know I – '' She's about to refuse and I can't have that so I rush to interrupt: ''I'm dying, Maggie.'' _Be careful you dumbass! This requires finesse. _''I only have a couple of hours left…and we both know the other agents will sooner open fire than let me step out of this room. This…'', I raise the envelope higher so she could see it, ''…this is the only way I can say goodbye now…''

_Oh my God…I am __**so **__going to Hell for this._

She is staring at me, her mouth slightly open but other than that there's no reaction. _Huh…looks like I'll have to pull out the big guns…_

Not wasting a second more, I let my bottom lip tremble as my eyes fill up with tears on a mental command and I see Nurse Weisz's eyes widen comically. _Okay. Time to go in for the kill._

My eyes sparkling with the gathered liquid, I look straight into her wide grey orbs and go for it: ''Please. He's all I've got left…I can't leave him without a word.'' Trap sprung, I let one solitary tear roll down my cheek for added effect.

Maggie whimpers softly. _Heh! Heh! You've still got it, Bruckhardt._

''Even if I agree to do this for you, how am I supposed to find your brother? I've read your file, Agent Bruckhardt – there's absolutely nothing about your family in there…'', she asks in a whisper.

_Damn it!_

''Just give it to Agent Barton. He knows my brother and he'll make sure he gets it'', I answer just as quietly, ''…and if he's not back from his mission yet, just slip the letter into his locker. It's on the second level of the Helicarrier-01, Training Room S6…'', I add brushing the tears away with the back of my hand and then sniffle pathetically.

The young blonde's shoulders slump in defeat. ''Alright. I'll do it.''

''Really?'', I ask, letting my voice fill up with hope as I silently decide to take it a step further to make sure she doesn't back out at the last second…

Holding my breath, I let my eyes go big and round and just so, so innocent looking as I once again stare straight at her...

_Can you see what I'm getting at here? No? Hmm…think of that orange tabby from the Shrek movies when he's giving the Ogre the moon eyes…_

''You would really do that?'', I probe, my voice small and child-like. All I have to do now is wait…_and 1, and 2, and– _''oh, here we go'', I mutter under my breath as Nurse Weisz's face sets with a look of fierce determination and she nods. ''Yes Agent Bruckhardt. I'll do it, I give you my word…now please – lay back and let me give you your painkillers before someone catches me in here.''

I grace her with a tired smile as I do as asked and lay back down, my eyes closing as the younger woman swiftly and expertly administers the promised morphine. A few seconds later, I hear a soft clang as the blonde Nurse discards of the now empty syringe and then hurriedly plucks the cream-colored envelope out of my hands.

''I'll make sure Agent Barton gets this as soon as possible. Rest now Agent Bruckhardt.''

I can feel the medicine kicking in, slowly pulling me under and into the land of dreams as I slowly nod my head in agreement.

Seemingly satisfied, Nurse Weisz turns on her heel and hastily leaves the Quarantine Room, the door closing and re-locking with a quiet hiss behind her.

_Yep…I've just earned myself a one-way ticket to Hell…Awesome._

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**A/N: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Marvel Universe.**

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**3.**

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– **November, 2008 –**

''Dammit!'', I grumble, my numb with cold fingers curled around the hem of the unbelievably short jean mini skirt I'm wearing, desperately trying to tug the minuscule scrap of fabric down in order to cover some of the bare flesh on display as I hastily make my way through the crowded evening streets of Washington and towards 'Laika' – a hype Russian nightclub in downtown DC.

The tiny torture device a.k.a. the most ridiculously impractical article of clothing mankind has managed to come up with so far – _I just can't bring myself to call it a skirt! I mean seriously! That thing is so short my buns are showing!_ – gives after several persistent tugs, slowly sliding down my hips by a half an inch, which basically does nothing to cover my freezing ass and I groan miserably – all hope of completing this mission with my dignity at least _somewhat_ intact now completely shattered.

I can feel the depression coming on in waves and all I want to do is sit down on the nearest bench – hell, even the curb would do at this point – and throw a tantrum the likes of which America hasn't seen yet, maybe cuss out some poor unsuspecting fool until he or she is reduced to a trembling, crying mess but then I think better of it; it's not some random strangers fault I look like something that belongs strictly in a window display of your local 'Whores R Us'…well, it isn't mine either but who cares, right?

Oh, who am I kidding?! I care! Hmm…I guess this'll teach me to trust Agent Summers…_'Come with me, Agent Bruckhardt, she said. I'll have you dolled up in no time, she said.' _BITCH.

A few people look at me weirdly as I rush past them, cuss words that would put a seasoned sailor to shame falling from my lips and the urge to stop and pound one of them into the pavement hits me like a ton of bricks. _''Resist Anna, resist. It's not their fault…''_

An old grey-haired granny shuffles past, leaning heavily on her cane yet the disgusted, judgmental look in her eyes…well; that right there finally makes me snap.

''_NO! BRAIN TO ANNA: ABORT MISSION, ABORT MISSION!''_

Luckily for the old bat, that's the moment my ears pick up on the loud, rhythmic thumping of music and – rationality flooding my mind with a fierce vengeance – I freeze in my tracks seconds before jumping the wrinkly coot.

''_Jeebus, Bruckhardt…I can't believe you were about to beat the crap out of an old woman…'' _I huff irately at that annoying inner voice – otherwise known as conscience – as I turn my head towards the direction the music is coming from and scowl because I'm almost blinded by the harsh brightness of the red neon sign just above the door of an apparent dance club. I quickly close my eyes, groan and then re-open them: the word _'Лайка'_ – in its original Cyrillic form – is glaring at me and I realize I've reached my destination.

Shaking the angry scowl off my face I hastily stomp towards the entrance but the five-inch killer heels I'm wearing don't make that particular task easy as the pavement is kind of uneven and cracked in places, making me wobble unsteadily so I slow down marginally as I realize I won't be able to carry out my mission if I end up breaking my neck.

By the time I do reach the entrance, the scowl is firmly back on my face and I seriously entertain the idea of turning around and heading back to base so I could cold-bloodedly murder a certain agent. However, I really don't want to get reprimanded or worse yet; suspended because I couldn't nip my homicidal urges in a bud so I grit my teeth and present the entrance fee and my totally-not-fake-looking fake ID Card for the two beefy bouncers posted at the double metallic doors.

One of them stamps the top of my right hand with the club's insignia which can only be seen under a fluorescent light as soon as the cash is safely deposited in the pocket of his leather jacket, while the other one – Sergei, the name tag on his black, long-sleeved shirt says – hands me my ID back, his eyes hungrily rowing up and down my scantily-clad body.

Anger deep within me sparks to life again as he continues staring shamelessly and I'm about to go 'ball-buster' on him when he turns to face his fellow bouncer and nods. The leather jacket wearing dude opens the door and motions with a barely-there nod of his head for me to go on in. Releasing the breath I didn't know I was holding I'm about to do just that when I hear an obnoxiously loud whistle coming from behind me, swiftly followed by: ''Oi krasavica! Nosi siuda svoju sladkuju zadnicu!''

That's enough to make me see red; slowly turning around, I hiss at the happily inebriated skin-headed asshole: ''otjebis, sterva!'', and then I freeze. _''Well, now you've done it''_, the biatch in my head grouses, _''you're not even in the club yet and you've already managed to fuck up your mission! What part of keep a low profile didn't you get?!''_

My wide-eyed gaze shifts away from the near-bold douche-bag standing precariously close to the curb, shock radiating off of him in waves to land on the two bouncers, who both could easily give Arnold Schwarza-kitty a run for his money in the muscle department.

I gulp nervously, thinking they are about to kick _me_ to the curb and in my mind's eye, I can already see Fury ripping me a new one. However – just as my imagination was starting to run really wild with the ideas of what would _follow_ the customary ripping of a new one – the two ex-body builders, for all I know, start laughing…and they're laughing so hard, it looks like they're about to bust a gut.

''_Huh. Would you look at that…''_

A couple of seconds pass by and then – a wide grin on his face – the leather jacket wearing hunk-of-muscle turns to me. ''Well, you sure know how to put a man in his place, princess'', he says with a hearty chuckle, the English sentence somewhat butchered by the heavy Russian accent but it still strokes my ego and I can't help myself; a cocky smirk makes its way onto my lips as the bouncer again motions for me to go on in. I throw him a saucy wink and with a softly murmured ''thanks'', I finally make my way inside.

It's dark for about a half of a second and then the strobe lights kick off and I survey the room before me: the majority of people are dancing – okay, so they're more like grinding against each other – their moves perfectly in sync with the rhythm of the fast-paced…_wait, is that techno?_

Suddenly, my brown eyes widen. _''No…oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. Anna, don't you dare! Don't think about it, don't think about it, don't thi–''_…Oops! Too late! My left eye starts twitching uncontrollably as I suddenly find myself unable to think of nothing else but the newest Techno Chicken video taking YouTube by storm.

I must have been standing still for a good few minutes – looking like a total dunce too, I bet – my mind empty except for the rhythmic techno clacking of the damnable white bird, when someone bumped into me with the force of a small tornado. That however, was enough to violently rip me out of my daze and I looked up just in time to see a petite red-head sway dangerously in the standard hooker-issue platforms adorning her feet, my right arm shooting out to steady her before she could end up pouring her half-full glass of – what looks like – Rum &amp; Coke down my skin-tight leopard-print top. _''Yup. We're definitely off-lining one Rita Summers as soon as we get back to the HQ…''_, the pest that resides within the confines of my head quipped and this time I couldn't agree more if I tried.

The tiny thing standing before me starts apologizing profusely – or at least she tries; her words are so slurred I only pick up on 'sorry'. Never-the-less, I grace her with a tight-lipped smile before giving her a gentle push in the direction of an unoccupied booth at the back of the room.

As I watch her sway her way to the table, out of the very corner of my eye I notice something; to my right and barely a couple of feet behind the table the red-headed tyke is now sitting at, happily slurping on her drink there's a couple and – _oh ew, ew, ew!_ – they're sure giving a whole new meaning to the phrase 'caught in the act…'

''_Pfft! Fucking horn-toads…''_

Being the awesome agent that I am, I dutifully roll my eyes at tonight's live entertainment – cough, the shameless and explicit re-enactment of 'The wild, wild sex-capades of Mrs Jones', cough – and head over to the bar where I order myself a 'Jack-on-the-Rocks' because let's face it: it's going to be one hell of a night and I will need some liquid courage flowing through my veins before I can get started with my mission.

The bartender flirts with me heavily, not even trying to be discreet in his leering as he hands me my drink – _oh no, slick. You ain't gonna dip your teensy-weensy pencil-dick into my honey pot tonight…or any other night…nuh-uh! _– I present him with a seriously rotten stink eye then turn my back on him and lean against the bar, one arm resting on the highly polished wooden top for extra support while the others fingers wrap tightly around the cool glass tumbler of amber-colored deliciousness and quietly tinkling ice.

Bringing the glass to my lips, I take a small sip of my drink and as inconspicuously as possible let my eyes sweep the room, cautiously searching for tonight's target – one Michail 'Liosha' Kavalenko a.k.a. The Red Scorpion: a well-known arms dealer with quite serious ties to the Russian Mafia. S.H.I.E.L.D. has been keeping an eye on him and his boys for longer than I can remember but recently, a few of our deep undercover agents working the seedier parts of the city started picking up on numerous whispers that were basically saying the same thing; 'Liosha' has a big shipment of something new and nasty coming in all the way from Yakutsk in a couple of days' time.

This, of course, created quite the buzz within the Headquarters and Director Fury himself issued an immediate order to have him followed 24/7 but Kavalenko's a real sneaky fucker and he managed to shake off the tail with ease, Houdini-ing he's ass off of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar and staying gone.

All hope of bagging &amp; tagging the bastard was thought lost and Director Fury was so…well, furious…he seemed very close to achieving the phenomena known as the spontaneous human combustion. He roared and he glared – extra viciously – for days he was so mad and I am pretty sure this would have continued until he finally snapped and throttled someone. But alas, I got word from one of my Confidential Rats – uh, sorry – Confidential _Informants _that Michail just so happens to frequent a certain popular Russian haunt – which is why I'm here tonight.

''Show time…'', I mutter into my glass then take a big sip as I notice my target entering the joint; a shit eating grin appears on his face as one of his cronies hands him a very expensive hand-wrapped Cuban cigar and then proceeds to lead him to the cordoned off table the rest of their little gang is at.

Ironically enough, it's quite close to the two porn star wannabes who are – just as fervently as before – still going at it.

Chuckling under my breath I polish off my drink and carelessly set the tumbler down on the wooden bar top, my eyes not straying from my target not even for a second as I make my way into the thick of the dancing crowd. Letting the beat of the music wash over me – thank God it's not techno anymore because I can only tolerate that shit if it involves Mr McCluckin – I start dancing, my hips swaying sensually from side to side and no longer than a minute passes by when I feel hands grasp my hips from behind, slowly sliding down and towards my barely covered ass to cop a feel.

My eyes leaving the merry band of thugs for a brief moment, I grit my teeth and turn around to slap the shit out of the hands-y ass-hat when – lo and behold – I'm greeted with the grinning face of the same red-headed, stripper platforms wearing, Rum &amp; Coke chugging Thumbelina from earlier. Uh…_talk about a brain short-circuiting…_

''_Well hello again, Red…''_, conscience of the year – or Constance, as I've decided to name the snarky bitch taking up space in my head – chirps but a second later, thusly helping me shake off the brain paralysis and I find myself grinning. Looking ecstatic the girl takes my grin as a positive sign, pulls me flush against her and before I know what hit me, her hands are back right where they were before – on my ass.

Okay. So I might not swing that way but – I realized – I'd still rather dance with the 'hands-y sistah' over here than some random perv-y twerp who can't take a no for an answer. Not that one posed much of a problem for me…I mean, come on! I'm a highly trained government agent…well, that and it really doesn't take much to break a wandering finger or two – or all ten…

I lightly shake my head, amused even though shorty is getting friskier with every passing second as we're grinding against each other to the almost hypnotic beat of the music, with me now and again casting discreet glances at Kavalenko's table, making sure to keep an eye on them just in case something goes down. But they're all still there – drinking, laughing just like they were a minute ago.

Huffing out a breath, I let my eyes scan the rest of the club. My gaze lands on the bar area and I find myself craving another shot of Jack. However, that's when I notice him – my partner for the last two years – Phil Coulson. He's leaning casually against the bar, much like I did at the beginning of this evening, a glass of Gin &amp; Tonic at his lips as he too scans the room.

_I wonder what he's doing here…_

Our gazes meet and his soft baby blues widen dismally for a second – I bet it's my get-up that's causing such a reaction and not the busty red-head grinding down on me like there's no tomorrow, because if I'm honest with myself – over the years – he's become desensitized to the crazy and downright ridiculous shit I pull off and then get away with whenever inspiration strikes, so this particular reaction of his is really saying something…something along the lines of: Rita Summers must die…painfully.

I watch as Phil shakes his head and swiftly drains his drink then places the tumbler upside down on the bar top and bravely steps into the sea of sweaty, grinding bodies – his steps are measured yet just fast enough to avoid grabby hands as he meets my eyes and motions with a quick nod of his head towards the back door, clearly wanting me to follow him.

I nod back affirmatively before he disappears in the massive crowd of people, then look down at the girl boldly feeling me up as we continue to dance and amusement bubbles up within me.

_Naughty little thing…_

However, it's time for me to blow this joint as I know my partner is waiting for me outside – I swear that man has the patience of a Saint – so I gently remove the red-headed Tink's wandering hands off my ass (surprise, surprise) and lean down to whisper in her ear: ''sorry pumpkin, but I gotta go now.'' With that, I throw her a cheeky smile and hastily stalk towards the back exit, gently shoving some of the people out of my way and harshly elbowing those who are too slow to get out of my way as I head after my partner.

Seeing this and most likely not wanting to experience the power of The Elbow for themselves, the rest of the crowd parts for me like the Red Sea for Moses and grinning like the Cheshire cat I find myself at the back door in no time.

Pushing down on the horizontal iron bar with both hands, I force the door open only to be greeted with a strong gust of cold, fast approaching winter wind which has my teeth chattering immediately as I step out into the dark alley where Coulson, as predicted, is waiting for me – his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

''Phil'', I greet him, ''…what are you doing here? You knew I was out on a mission…you could have compromised me'', I scold halfheartedly as I start shivering uncontrollably in the frigid night air.

He smiles and it's just as soft as his eyes. ''Not anymore you aren't. Director Fury has a new assignment for you – I'm here to bring you back to HQ.''

''But Kavalenko…'', I argue for the sake of arguing as I don't really give a shit – this wasn't my case to begin with.

''Don't worry about Kavalenko…'', Phil interrupts my half-assed try, ''…Agent Kurtis is on his way to take over for you as we speak.'' He frowns when he notices me shivering and his kind eyes finally take in my attire – or rather the lack of one – in its entirety. ''Let me guess – Rita's handiwork?'', he asks, swiftly taking off his beloved black wool coat and holding it out for me.

For a second there, all I can do is blink like an owl and then it hits me: ''you knew she would do this to me?!'', I ask, thoroughly outraged.

Phil shakes his head. ''Well, I knew of her tendency to 'doll-up' the female agents for when they have to go undercover. But I never thought you would become one of her unfortunate victims or I would have warned you, Anna.''

The harsh expression melts off of my face almost immediately – I know Phil would never lie to me, to anyone for that matter so long as it has nothing to do with a case or S.H.I.E.L.D. He's just not that kind of person so I smile at him and accept the coat, hurriedly pulling it over my wildly trembling form. _Ahhh…so nice and warm…_ ''Thanks partner.''

He smiles back. ''Come on. We need to go now.''

I nod in agreement and follow him to the unmarked, black SUV parked a few feet away. As we reach the vehicle in question, Coulson holds the passenger's side door open for me and I hastily get in, making myself comfortable on the soft leather seat as soon as he shuts the door behind me then quickly walks around the car to the driver's side and gets in behind the wheel.

As he turns the key in the ignition and the vehicle's engine purrs to life I turn in my seat so I can face him: ''hey partner, I know we kinda just broke up and then made up, but I need to know if I can count on you…''

He turns to face me, a curious and a somewhat befuddled expression on his face. ''For what?'', he asks.

''To help me hide Rita's body parts, once I'm done with her…'', I answer without hesitation. _Duh_.

He stares at me unblinkingly for a long moment, as though waiting for me to tell him that I'm only kidding. Which I am…maybe. But he doesn't need to know that so I say nothing and the silent stare-off continues. A second later he finally blinks, the left corner of his lips twitching almost unnoticeably as he takes a good look at me – most likely reminding himself what I'm wearing under that coat of his – and the next thing I know, he's laughing. Although that particular action doesn't answer my question, at this moment in time, I am really glad Phil is my partner because I know – without a shadow of a doubt – if it were still Clint, he'd never let me live this night down…

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**TRANSLATION:**

**1\. (Drunk douche-bag) - ''Hey, beautiful! Bring that sweet ass over here!''**

**2\. (Anna) - ''Fuck off [you] twat!''**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Marvel Universe.**

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**4.**

* * *

Our late evening ride comes to an end about an hour later when Phil parks the shiny black SUV in an underground parking lot of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Washington HQ.

Without a word, my partner of the past two years exits the vehicle and waits patiently while I lazily unbuckle my seat belt and too step out of the comfortable warmth of our car. With a slight eye roll he swiftly yet quietly closes the driver's side door and heads for the rear of our ride.

Momentarily confused, I frown as he unlocks the trunk and pulls out a black bag out.

_Ah, my go-bag – _I realize as soon as I notice the tiny toy panda secured to the strap of it – _God I love my partner…He's the best! I mean, not only he came to pick me up when he didn't have to and let's face it here; when any other Agent would have simply called or let my replacement inform me of the situation, thus leaving me to make my own way back to HQ but he also procured me my go-bag so that I wouldn't have to parade around home-base looking like a hoe – _and I smile as he gently tosses it to me.

''Gee, C. You're the best!'', I cry happily as I catch it, a teasing grin stretching my lips. ''I'm totally feeling the love now…''

Phil only chuckles at my antics. ''Come on, Anna. Let's hurry if you want to change into something that doesn't scream 'Rita's bitch' before you go in to see the Director.''

An indignant 'heyyyy!' falls from my mouth as soon as I process what he said and I really, really want to throw a brick at him but alas – there isn't one conveniently laying around so I huff and stomp my foot a couple of times like a spoiled three year old brat throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of a busy Walmart and then rush to catch up with Coulson who – shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter – is already half way across the parking lot, quickly closing the distance between himself and the elevators with every passing second and I manage to reach him just as the closest set of metallic doors swooshes open followed very closely by a soft _ding_.

We – Coulson, who by that time has managed to compose himself and I, huffing and puffing as I try to catch my breath because, lemme tell you, running through a parking lot the size of two friggin' football fields in hooker heels ain't as easy as it looks – wait patiently for the two dark-suited Agents to step out before we head in.

As the door closes, Phil extracts his Level 8 clearance ID and swipes it through the reader in a small access panel to his right before pressing the B5 button.

As soon as the 'metal box of doom' starts its slow decent my _lovely_ partner opens his mouth, all too innocently asking: ''so. Changing room first?'' and his lips twitch mirthfully when he notices my sharp intake of breath.

Fighting the scowl that clearly wants to make my pretty face its new permanent home, I cock an eyebrow and turn to face him. ''Why, you know, Phil…'', I start conversationally, ''…I totally L-U-R-V-E you but right now, I am seriously entertaining the idea of enriching my go-bag with a brick or two.''

Utter silence follows that and God, he looks so confused I want to laugh but no! _I shall resist!_

''_Take the bait! Take the bait! Oh, take the bait!''_

_Geez, Constanza! Chill out girl…_

A few slow seconds drag by and then – ''why?'', he asks, his brows pulled into a light frown.

_A-ha! Hook, line and sinker…Gotcha now, pal!_

I meet his inquiring gaze and deadpan: ''…so I'd have something to hit you over the head with whenever the impulse to do so strikes.''

He is still for a beat, as though unsure if I really just said that and then he starts laughing. ''Oh, Anna'', he finally manages to squeeze out in between hearty chuckles, ''what am I gonna do with you?''

Instantly, I present him with my most innocent facial expression; eyes wide and round and twinkling merrily as I respond to his question in a child-like voice: ''tell me that you L-U-R-V-E me too and that I'm the best and that you'll be my partner for ever and ever..?''

He snorts at that – an action which he swiftly tries to cover up with a cough but fails epically – and it's so ridiculous, I bust out laughing. At that point, I'm pretty certain I sound like a dying fox I'm laughing so hard but I don't care because that makes Phil laugh just as hard and he doesn't sound any better. However, just then I hear a quiet _ding_ – the elevator doors swoosh open as we've reached our floor and I freeze mid laugh as soon as I notice the three newbie Agents – all of them nerds, like big time – standing on the other side.

Clearing my throat, I grab a hold of Phil's shirt collar and proceed to drag his still laughing ass out as the junior Agents watch on, their mouths hanging open (because yeah - Phil has a reputation of the resident hard-ass which, I am pretty sure, has just been _irrevocably_ shattered).

Me being me, I of course can't pass up such a golden opportunity so I pat Coulson's back affectionately as I slowly wrangle him away from the 'doom machine' and then face the nerd squad: ''Oh, don't you pay him any mind'', I start casually and then stage-whisper, ''…he's high again.''

The newbs are gasping and sputtering, the expressions on their faces varying from surprise to disbelief to outrage and it's enough to make me howl with laughter while Phil – who by now has recovered from his own bout of the funnies – is glaring at me but I know it's only halfhearted because I can see the amusement dancing in his baby blues.

''Really, Anna? Really? High?'', he asks, completely ignoring the fuming red-faced newbies trying to incinerate the both of us with their super-secret nerd-pack powers.

Having managed to calm myself down to the point of light chuckling I shrug my shoulders. ''You know no force in existence could have ever made me pass up an opportunity like that…'' – he rolls his eyes. ''Go get changed'', he says lightly, gesturing with a nod of his head towards the door of the changing rooms to my left, ''…and I'll see you in my office in half an hour'', he adds with a fond little smile as he turns away and heads off.

''Okie-Dokie!'', I throw cheerfully at his retreating form, ''…I'll see you in 30 partner!''

Phil just shakes his head and I snicker as I quickly slip into the locker room.

* * *

A quick shower and a change of clothes later I find myself headed in the direction of Phil's office with a good 4 minutes to spare so of course I just _have_ to stop at the nearest techie's workstation and harass them into letting me use their computer…

As luck would have it, the person occupying the closest station is Josie: a young Level 2 technician whom I have gotten to know pretty well a few years back when she _just happened to be_ one of the new recruits in a group I've taken upon myself to 'break in' – but that only happened because every single one of them were such unbelievable _wimps_ – and I can honestly say I more than succeeded.

Be that as it may, not everyone in the HQ seemed to think that way as soon thereafter my carefully crafted operation had been dubbed as 'The Fresno Debacle' and I became known as 'The Menace of S.H.I.E.L.D.'

_Oh yeah…I am a legend and they totally tremble at the mention of my name here. Especially the newbs…heh, heh._

As it was, Director Fury most certainly did not find my escapades funny – even if some of the more seasoned Agents sure did – and ever since that day when he almost yelled himself into an aneurysm, he explicitly forbade me from so much as ever looking at his new recruits just in case – as he put it – I end up mentally scarring them with the sheer force of my stare…

However, Josie isn't a new recruit anymore which means that _technically_ I am not breaking that particular rule…and I am just itching to check my e-mail so…

''Oh, Josie'', I sing-song in a greeting.

The young red-headed woman stiffens immediately at the sound of my voice and I can't stop the shark-like grin from slowly stretching my lips as I wait for her to face me. With a pathetic whimper, the girl finally seems to gather her courage and slowly turns around; her hazel-green eyes are wide and scared – scared shitless – and she is pale as though facing Lucifer himself. _Huh…I wonder what's that about…_

''Josie…it's _so nice _to see you again'', I start, the predatory grin on my face widening. The girl gulps as she meets my gaze, looking as though she's about to cry and _dammit! _I really don't want to cause a scene…well, not just yet at least, so I rush to defuse the situation and to put a stop to the oncoming waterworks: ''…you see, Josie…I really, really need to check my mail so you won't mind if I use your station, right?'' She quickly shakes her head no and scurries off – or more like runs off – in the nearest clear direction.

Chuckling under my breath I plant my ass on the freshly vacated seat and crack my knuckles – loudly enough that the two techie's on either side of me cringe – then attack the keyboard with unrestrained fervor.

As soon as my inbox opens I growl in frustration: Bird-Brain still hasn't responded to any of my e-mails. _Bastard…_

Oh, I know he's out on an assignment but he always finds time for me… (Insert a spoiled brat pout here).

''_We should totally spam his inbox…''_, Constance pipes in just then, _''…that'll teach that weasel how to ignore us.''_

_Oh, tempting…so, so very tempting…but no; Barton will bite my head off once he returns if I'll do that. _But the idea is entirely too good to be dismissed and it's not like I'm scared of pissing him off…much. _So maybe…_

Suddenly, it's as though the Heavens parted and the angels started singing as a wicked, wicked idea hits me and I cackle evilly under my breath.

The two techies exchange nervous glances.

''_Pfft…woosies.''_

Hitting up YouTube I let my fingers fly over the keyboard as I swiftly pull up several different Techno Chicken video feeds and work madly on attaching them to several different e-mails, each one carrying an impressive amount of insults atop the links, all of which are directed at my beloved Hawkniss.

As I tirelessly threaten him with never-ending nightmares of techno clacking – a language he'll soon be fluent in if he continues to ignore me – I hear someone (quite pointedly) clear their throat.

Freezing up momentarily, I turn on the borrowed swivel chair to face the culprit who dared to interrupt me, one of my fiercest glares firmly in place only for my eyes to widen comically when I realize it's Coulson…_Gah! I'm so busted!_

''Anna'', he starts then glances over my head at the computer screen and groans: ''you have got to be kidding me…''

I throw him an award winning smile because really? What can I say when I've just been caught red-handed…

He rolls his eyes emphatically. ''Really? You were supposed to be in my office 5 minutes ago'', he sighs heavily, ''…and I thought you were over and done with that silly chicken obsession of yours.''

I shrug my shoulders. ''It's highly addictive.''

Phil scoffs and grasps my hand in his own, swiftly yet gently pulling me onto my feet. ''Come. Director Fury is waiting…and you know how much he despises being kept waiting.''

Stubbornly, I dig my heels into the floor: ''just gimme a second, Phil! I just want to se– '', I plead as he proceeds to drag me towards Fury's office and he cuts me off with a stern ''Anna''.

''But Phiiilll…Barton's ignoring me! And YOU know how much I can't stand being ignored! He's being an ass-hat on purpose and I need to get back at him!'', I whine in a rush and he stops and just stares at me for a good old second.

''How old are you again?'', he asks and I pout before answering: ''why I'm 26'', then I think about what I've just said and hastily add, ''…but only 5 at heart.''

Coulson snorts at that, his lips once again twitching with amusement.

''Oh come on, Phil! You bestest partner you! Just lemme send-off that e-mail and we can go'', I try negotiating as best as I can but it looks like he isn't gonna budge so lowering my voice I lean closer into his personal space and whisper conspiratorially: ''have I ever told just how much Barton hates that damnable bird?''

''_YESH!'', _Constance and I exclaim at the same time as we catch the wickedly mischievous glint enter Coulson's eyes…_heh, heh. I knew he couldn't resist the chance to help me ruffle our resident Hawk's feathers…_

''Ten seconds'', he tells me as he lets go of my hand and I jump at the chance, my fingers – once again – flying over the keyboard as I shoot off the multiple e-mails to my bro, feeling incredibly proud of myself as I can already imagine the reaction these are going to garner.

''Time's up'', Phil announces as I am logging out and closing the browser, ''…let's go, Anna.''

''Yup'', I agree, purposefully popping the P as I turn to face him, ''let's.''

* * *

Five minutes later found us navigating our way through a maze of corridors and a flight or two of stairs as my loyal side-kick and I near the office of the Head Honcho. As we make one last turn and are finally only feet away from the dark-painted wooden double doors leading into the boss's lair, Coulson and I freeze; there, standing just outside of the said door is no one else than Director Fury's personal henchman…

...uh okay, that came out wrong so lemme rephrase: hench_woman – _Maria Hill.

Pointedly glancing down at her wristwatch, the brunette scowls and approaches us, stopping only a few steps away. Her steely grey orbs jump from my partner to me and back to Coulson.

''Phil'', she greets him with a barely-there nod of her head.

Phil smiles lightly and returns the nod with a softly uttered ''Maria'', before that icy gaze of hers settles firmly on me and I whimper almost inaudibly – that woman always terrified me. In fact, when I was but a junior Agent myself I was kinda convinced that she wasn't a human being but rather a very elaborate android sent from the future – you know, sort of like that robot thing from the Terminator movies..?

''Agent Bruckhardt'', she greets, her tone emotionless and cold as always as she glares at me, ''you're late.''

_Oh, boy. Is it hot in here or what?_

I chuckle nervously. ''Yeah…heh, heh. I guess I am.''

Her eyes narrow dangerously. I gulp loudly.

_Go away you evil, evil woman._

''I suggest you don't keep Director Fury waiting any longer than you already have. I trust that I don't have to tell you how much he dislikes that…''

I shake my head no emphatically: ''no, ma'am.''

Phil snickers under his breath. _Asshole..._

''Good'', the still scowling brunette said and immediately after steps around me, her footsteps echoing in the sparsely decorated corridor as she briskly walks away.

As soon as all traces of the T-1000 are gone from my immediate vicinity I relax, my tense shoulders slumping as sweet relief floods me. However, that feeling doesn't last very long as _of course_ my _awesome partner_ just has to remind me why I'm here to begin with: ''well, what are you waiting for? Go on. I'll wait right here.''

Letting out a breath I've been holding I look up at him and whine, ''…do I have to?'' only to receive another stern look in return. I raise my hands up in surrender, ''…alright, alright! I'm going. Jeez…''

Huffing under my breath I turn on my heel and march towards the double door at the end of the corridor, all the while muttering to myself how Phil was gonna get a taste of Barton's medicine as soon as I was done here.

Not stopping to even _consider_ such thing as knocking I force the door open, enter and strut straight towards boss-man's desk as the door shuts behind me with a loud bang.

''You wanted to see me, Sir?'', I ask and without being offered to do so I plonk my ass down onto one of the two available swiveling black leather chairs in front of his desk, just barely managing to contain the grin that is fighting for its freedom.

Director Fury – decked out in his usual all-black leather ensemble – is sitting just on the other side of the large desk, the fingers of his gloved right hand drumming a rapid staccato rhythm on the hard gun-metal grey plastic surface of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Classified documents folder resting just under the aforementioned hand as he fixes his eyes…erm, eye…on me and stares. I stare right back although it's getting harder and harder to keep a straight face so I cock an eyebrow questioningly. ''Yes?''

His one good eye twitches – just barely but it does – and I grin toothily. _Ah, the sweet taste of victory…_

Fury growls under his breath and forcefully pushes the folder towards me. ''Briefing packet for your new assignment'', he informs me in a dark tone and I frown, as usually he would brief me himself, but I don't touch it.

''Take the damned packet…'', he hisses through tightly clenched teeth, his ire rising so I, having decided to give him a momentary reprieve, pick the folder up.

As soon as the packet is in my hands, Fury catches my gaze: ''…make sure you don't fuck this mission up or I promise you I won't be as lenient with you as I was after that Fresno spectacle…are we clear?''

Unable to help myself, I chuckle under my breath at the mention of Fresno and the good old days…_oh, yeah. Sometimes I really outdo myself…_and then I meet his irritated stare head on and ask: ''because – and lemme guess here – if do fuck up, you'll have me shipped off to Antarctica where I'll spend the remainder of my miserable days, until I'm old and wrinkly and can't honk off a fart while in an upright position, with nothing better to do but monitor the foot traffic of penguins and polar bears..? Am I right?''

Director Fury grits his teeth and the fingers that were, just a couple of minutes ago, drumming an agitated rhythm are now gripping the edge of the desk with such force, I can hear the wood creaking under the pressure.

Oookay…that's totally my cue to skedaddle but I can't resist…

''_Uh, didn't your hair-brained mother ever teach you about not tempting faith? Or, in this case – Fury?'', _Constance butts in just then but I ignore her as I grin cockily at the seething man sitting in front of me. ''I'm totally right, aren't I?''

The desk creeks ominously loudly in answer. I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing – my God! If getting under Fury's skin is not my favorite pastime then I don't know what is – and his nostrils flare.

''Bruckhardt?'', he starts, his tone deceptively calm yet severely clipped and I get the sudden impression that he would really enjoy throttling me right about now.

''Yes?'', I ask innocently as I hug the briefing packet tightly to my chest.

He glares at me harshly for a few seconds and then roars: ''GET THE HELL OUTTA MY OFFICE!''

I jump to my feet with the folder – now safely tucked under my left arm – and salute him: ''SIR, YES, SIR!'' and then I run for the door…

* * *

– **November 12th, 2008 –**

* * *

I shake my head in disbelief – again – as the Quinjet I am currently sitting in starts its decent into the heavily wooded territory of northern Italy, still unable to believe the information I found waiting for me within the briefing packet Fury handed to me personally a couple of days ago.

All of it seems so…surreal. I mean, don't get me wrong – I could totally understand I was just sent after a new 'big bad' on the scene…but one that could and apparently _has already _jumped time?

What. The. Hell… What the actual Hell?!

_How is that even possible?_

Okay, so sure the packet contained an explanation for that – 'cause, hello! This is only S.H.I.E.L.D. acquired information – but it is, more or less, written in scientific jargon and while I am not an idiot it's way outta my league.

However, I had no trouble what-so-ever understanding phrases such as: _**an unknown high-tech device (a possible 0-8-4) in use, a rip in space-time continuum, stayed open **_and oh, my favorite so far – _**is giving off continuous fluctuating levels of Ta-Tach**_…okay, I can't even begin to pronounce THAT word. Gah!

Irritated beyond all rational belief, I shut the folder closed and stash it back in the secure case – lock combination known only to yours truly – and close my eyes. _Un-fucking-believable…_

But then hey; if aliens of all things are real – as Barton and Coulson found out in New Mexico not a couple of months ago, then I guess the possibility of time travel (_oh my God! oh my God!) _really shouldn't surprise me.

The next few minutes pass by in a chaotic blur of curses exchanged by the two pilots as we encounter some unexpected turbulence, the hushed whispers of the over-excited Techies joining me on this trip because boss-man decided that he – and I quote: _'I want the mother fuckin' rip monitored at all times, from both sides!' _and, of course, orders being barked left and right by the Head Honcho himself.

_Fuck my life…_

However, by the time we finally touch down in a small clearing – because a Quinjet doesn't require much landing space – the noise has died down and I open my eyes, slowly taking in all the people rushing to disembark the air craft.

With a tired sigh, I unfasten the seat-belt and stand up, taking a long minute to stretch before I pick up the secure case containing the briefing packet and a few spare toys from my personal collection followed by an over sized go-bag stuffed full with warm, mission-suitable clothes that'll last me a couple of months just in case this particular assignment takes longer than I initially thought it would to accomplish.

''Hurry the hell up!'', Fury orders loudly as I slowly make my way towards the ramp, choosing to drag the go-bag instead of carrying it, ''I don't have all fucking day!''

I groan but I do hurry up and as soon as I've reach the ramp leading outside, Director Fury rolls his eye dramatically then rips the go-bag out of my hands and slings it over his own shoulder.

I grin widely. ''Aww, such a gentleman…''

He glares. ''Shut your pie hole, Bruckhardt…and move!'', he barks out but there's no real heat behind the brusque order so I only grin wider and follow him out of the Quinjet, letting him lead me towards the little group of people not too far off gathered around what looks like – _well I'll be damned! – _a swirling vortex. _A. Fucking. Swirling. Vortex. When did my life turn into a friggin' Sci-fi movie?_

I shake my head as we gradually approach the – _no. Nope. Still can't believe it – _space-time rip and the little crowd parts, people quickly moving to the sides as we near them with every step – and now I can do nothing but stare wide-eyed at the mesmerizing yet utterly terrifying whirlpool…well, that and the man – decked out in old-timey, beige-colored military uniform and a dark brown aviator-style leather jacket – standing barely a few steps in front of it, his arms crossed over his chest as he watches Fury's and I's every step.

''Colonel Phillips'', the Director greets the older man, his arm outstretched for a hand shake as soon as we come to a stop in front of him, ''pleasure to see you again.''

''Director'', the man – Colonel Phillips – greets back and swiftly grasps Fury's hand, giving it a good strong shake, ''…same here.'' Then his curious blue eyes land on me. ''And I take it this is the Agent you've mentioned at our previous meeting?''

''Yes'', Fury answers simply, ''Bruckhardt – meet Colonel Chester Phillips. Colonel – this here'', he motions towards my general direction with his still gloved hand, ''…is Agent Anna Bruckhardt, our resident menace and a constant colossal pain in my ass…'', I roll my eyes at that, my lips twitching with barely restrained mirth, ''…but a damned good Agent, which is why I chose her for this mission.''

I blink once. I blink twice and then – _say what now?_

I open my mouth to quip something smart-assed and funny but Fury covers my mouth with his hand before I can utter a single word, his eye narrowed as he warns lowly: ''don't even! Not a word.''

Colonel Phillips's eyes are twinkling with amusement as Director – only after having received a curt nod of my head as a sign that I'll be a good little girl and behave…for now – removed his hand from my mouth, revealing the devious smirk playing on my lips.

Sighing exasperatedly, Fury picked up right where he left off: ''…as I was saying. Anna is one of the best S.H.I.E.L.D. has to offer and I am certain she will handle this situation without a problem. Isn't that right, Agent?''

''Yes Sir'', I answer immediately, no hesitation in my voice.

He stares at me unblinkingly – which is kinda unnerving when you think about it – watching for the tiniest sign of a lie or doubt but when a good minute in he still finds none he tosses my go-bag at me with a grumbled ''good, now get the hell outta my sight.''

I chuckle, sling the bag over my shoulder and step closer to Colonel Phillips when Fury's voice stops me: ''…Agent Bruckhardt?''

I stop and glance back at him over my shoulder, one eyebrow raised eloquently in question, ''Sir?''

He is silent for a second and then almost inaudibly he mumbles under his breath: ''be careful and don't do anything stupid.''

A grin so wide it hurts my cheeks lights up my face and I can't stop myself, ''aww, you big softie you! Just admit it – you'll miss me.''

Colonel Phillips is chuckling quietly on my right; highly amused it seems, as Fury's eye narrows the slightest bit. ''When Hell freezes over…''

I smirk. ''That certainly can be arranged, boss-man.'' He rolls his one good eye with a huff and then growls: ''get. Going!''

Still laughing, I face the military man standing at my side, ''shall we, Colonel?'', I ask, giving an almost imperceptible nod of my head towards the vortex.

He smiles. ''We shall, Agent Bruckhardt. Follow me.''

I nod in agreement and as we step into the swirling whirlpool and a brilliant – almost blinding white light engulfs us – I look straight at him. ''Call me Anna.''

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading.**


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